“Go now,” he said rising. “You must not let them suspect there is anything afoot, Peggy. I will move about in the city and see what I can find out. Be sure to wrap up.”
“I will,” she told him. “I hate to let thee go.”
“’Tis only for a little while,” he answered. “’Twill be a hard journey for you, Peggy, but your mother is at the end of it.”
“Yes, yes,” she cried. “Mother is at the end.”
Unable to speak further she turned and left him. The day was extremely cold, and as she entered the house after the drive, and felt the warmth of the fire, she became aware of a delicious drowsiness that was stealing over her.
“This will never do,” she exclaimed, trying to shake off the feeling. “I must keep awake.” But try as she would her eyelids grew heavier until finally she sought Harriet in the drawingroom.
“Harriet,” she said, “will thee serve the dinner? I am so sleepy from the drive that I must lie down a few moments. I know right well that I should not give up, but——”
“Nonsense,” cried Harriet crossly; “go lie down an you will, Peggy. One would think to hear you talk that dinner could not be served without you. ’Tis provoking the airs you give yourself! I dare say you will not be missed.”
“Thank thee, Harriet,” answered Peggy. “Thee will not find it irksome. ’Tis about ready.” The tired girl slipped down to the now empty drawing-room.